


lonely

by neoragodestiny



Category: Super Junior-M, f(x)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 23:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14704734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoragodestiny/pseuds/neoragodestiny
Summary: two lonely people use each other to negate the emptiness. sometimes it's enough, but sometimes it isn't





	lonely

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: had this headcanon way back last year when hb were practically ignoring each other and then suddenly had an interaction, wrote it in about january, and now i’m finally posting. I swear i will get around to finishing my other stuff soon ;;;;;;;;

The door slams in his face, and Henry actually rubs his nose from where it has been hit by the heavy front door of Amber's apartment.

He heaves a deep sigh.

"Here we go again," he murmurs to himself. 

It’s not the first time. He's lost count how many times his nose has met Amber's front door; how many times he's been pushed out of her apartment, her eyes blazing, red with anger, red from tears; how many times he's stood outside her door, pleading; how many times he's kicked it, too frustrated for words. 

(But then he tries to think about all the times he's stood outside her door with their favourite foods in takeaway containers, with presents for her dogs under his arm, bouncing on his toes, waiting for her to open the door and smile that gorgeous smile at him. All those days of the two of them kissing all the way to her front door, never wanting to be apart even when they spent every spare moment together, and how he'd stare at her door and hope she'd come out for one more kiss - and how often she did just that.

He's lost count of those times too.)

 

It had been a harmless start. The way young kids would make marriage pacts like 'if we're both single when we're thirty, we'll get married', Henry and Amber had made a pact, made a promise - if (when) relationships didn't work out, if (when) their careers ended with nothing but dust and broken dreams remaining, even when nothing worked out: they'd still work, they'd still be there, still be a constant in each other's lives.

The problem was - they didn't always work.

When they were good, they were really good. 

They met up all the time, saw mutual friends, laughed, drank, talked non-stop in person and online, like there wasn't enough things in the world to talk about. They would fall into bed together as often as they went on dates, like some new lovestruck couple, still in the honeymoon phase. 

She would smile like the universe was in her eyes, and he would feel like he was on top of the world. He would buy her flowers, just because they were the same colour as her top the day before, and she would cook him breakfast in bed on mornings after, making sure to add the things he liked, and take out the things she didn't.

But when they were bad, they were really bad.

At first it would be red, hot, angry. They'd scream at each other, find little things to nitpick, argue about, because they knew each other inside out and back to front - insecurities were jabbed, stabbed, thrown into the boiler to simmer and burn. Sometimes they'd even physically fight, wrestling each other to the ground, grabbing at shirts and hair, nails scratching and leaving long white lines of anger and bitterness, spitting harsh words into defiant eyes, 

But then the anger would turn cold. They would ignore each other, pretend the other didn't exist, for months at a time. Their chats to each other would have no activity, meet ups with mutual friends would be ignored, either by one or by both.

It was a cycle. A destructive, heart-wrenching cycle, but it was a cycle, and they were stuck in its endless loop.

When they were good, they'd say the last fight would be the last time, they'd be okay from now on. But when it was bad, they'd say they'll never speak again, that the friendship, the other person, meant nothing to them.

But like an addiction, they would fall back to each other, to their endless cycle of good, and bad, and the inbetween.

They promised each other, after all. It just wasn't quite what they envisaged it to be.


End file.
